The Best Medicine
by TheSlashBunny
Summary: Laughter isn't the best medicine. Love is. Or maybe just Naruto.   *Warnings: Humorous fluff, slight swearing, cranky Gaara, implied relationship between boys*


No longer being a jinchuuriki was a good thing. Really, it was. And on most days, Gaara would be the first to tell you that and maybe even list the reasons why: having a better grasp on his own personality; not being a demon vessel; not hearing a voice in his head that _wasn't his_; not being a demon trapped inside him; people being afraid of him because of his own innate badassery and not some demon's; not having a demon inside him trying to break free; not having to worry about going on a murderous rampage if he took a nap; oh, and did he mention not being a demon vessel?

Today was not most days.

Today, not having a demon inside him was a bad thing, a _very bad _thing. In fact, to quote Kankuro, it _sucked_.

Because it meant that he was helpless. He was stuck in Konoha and completely vulnerable. Now, you may be asking yourself, why was Gaara so vulnerable? Did his abilities rely on the demon? No, Gaara was still more than worthy of the title of Kazekage; in fact, one could argue that Gaara was even stronger than before, after all of the physical therapy and having to learn to power and control his jutsu on his own. So, no, his abilities as a shinobi hadn't been reliant on the demon.

But his immune system apparently had. Which meant that he didn't have the naturally-acquired immunities to childhood illnesses that everyone else had formed as children. While his peers had been suffering chicken pox, mono, and mumps, he'd been foiling assassination attempts. And while other kages were planning a new series of interlocking trade and defense agreements, he was stuck on Naruto's couch under a mound of blankets.

And, oh, was Gaara pissed off.

Because it was only logical that, while Gaara slowly died from whatever-the-hell that pink-haired sadist had called this _obviously_ flesh-eating disease, he be in the care of the _only_ person in the village who had immunity to _everything_. Thereby rubbing it in Gaara's face that no long being a jinchuuriki SUCKED.

Thankfully, with two kages thus out-of-commission, the previously-mentioned kage summit had been postponed, so Gaara wasn't missing anything... much. Also, Naruto thankfully knew that ill health wouldn't improve by eating just ramen, which is why there was an empty bowl that had earlier contained miso soup on the coffee table to Gaara's right. And why green eyes were currently glaring at a steaming cup held out by a certain blond sitting on the edge of the couch next to Gaara's out-stretched legs, sighing with quickly thinning patience.

"It's just tea, Gaara. Not poison. It's not gonna kill you." Naruto rolled his eyes as he deciphered the disgruntled rumble emanating from the unwilling patient in front of him. "It might even make your sore throat feel better."

Gaara hated the wheedling tone that Naruto's voice had taken on lately when his best friend tried to convince him to do something for his own good. He wasn't a child to be coddled, damn it! But he couldn't take the cup. He couldn't! So he wriggled further into his nest of blankets and pillows and Naruto was forced to interpret yet another muffled response.

"Can't? Whaddaya mean, can't? Your arms worked just fine half an hour ago!" Damn it, now Naruto was upset with him, which isn't fair because Gaara is sick and he can't help it! Naruto sighed again, taking a moment to rub his eyes. When he looked back at Gaara, his blue eyes were pleading. "Gaara, drink the damn tea. Sakura said you won't get better if you don't get enough fluids. So, come on."

Gaara softened his glare to eye Naruto. The man had a point, even if Gaara still suspected he was dying. But... he mumbled again.

"What?" Gaara rearranged his blankets around his jaw and tried again.

"...My arms and neck get too cold if I take them out of the blankets..." Naruto's expression softened in concern.

"Did your fever get worse?" he asked, using his free hand to feel Gaara's forehead. Gaara couldn't decide if the cool skin felt torturous or heavenly. Didn't matter - he was dying anyway and he'd become pleasantly accustomed to Naruto's regular forced contact. "Are you cold even with the blankets?"

A nod.

"Aw, poor baby."

A death glare.

Naruto chuckled and muttered something about "minimum time between doses" before putting the tea on the coffee table next to the empty bowl and standing.

Gaara couldn't stop his alarm when tan hands started to move his protective barriers of blankets. Had they not just established the importance of the Blanket Nest? But his panic began to fade as Naruto inserted himself into the space between Gaara's back and the arm of the couch that previously been occupied by pillows. He arranged his limbs on either side of Gaara's feverish body and placed the blankets back around them both.

"Better?" Gaara could hear his smirk in his voice and could feel the laughter rumble in the broad chest as he burrowed (because Sand nin do not "snuggle") back into the warmth that was Naruto. The tea was in front of him again, held by a calloused hand that was apparently impervious to the arctic temperature of the room. The steam appearing over the lip of the mug did look enticing...

The first sip was a little too hot, but the second felt so good in his throat that he had to have a third and then a fourth. He couldn't prevent the contented noise that escaped him when his reward for finishing the tea was a kiss on his cheek and strong comforting arms tightened around him. His last thoughts before he fell asleep with his head cushioned on a well-muscled chest were, _Maybe being sick isn't so bad after all..._


End file.
